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NARRATIVE 



WILLIAM W. BROWN, 



FUGITIVE SLAVE 



WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 



Is there not some chosen curse, 



Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven, 
Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man 
Who gains his fortune from the blood of souls? 

COWPER. 



BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED AT THE ANTI-SLAVERY OFFICE, 

No. 25 CORNHILL. 

1847. 



■Bs8 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847, 

BY WILLIAM W. BROWJV', 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



Jlndreics ^ Prentiss, Printers. 



TO WELLS BROWN, OF OHIO. 



Thirteen years ago, I came to your door, 
a weary fugitive from chains and stripes. I 
was a stranger, and you took me in. I was 
hungry, and you fed me. Naked was I, and 
you clothed me. Even a name by which to 
be known among men, slavery had denied 
me. You bestowed upon m.e your own. Base 
indeed should 1 be, if I ever forget what I 
owe to you, or do anything to disgrace that 
honored name ! 

As a slight testimony of my gratitude to 
my earliest benefactor, I take the liberty to 
inscribe to you this little Narrative of the 



IV DEDICATION. 



sufferings from which I was fleeing when you 
had compassion upon me. In the multitude 
that you have succored, it is very possible 
that you may not remember me ; but until I 
forget God and myself, 1 can never forget 
you. 

Your grateful friend, 

William Wells Brown. 



LETTER 



EDMUND QUINCY, ESQ 



DEDHAiM, July 1, 1847. 
TO WILLIAM W. BROWx\. 

My Dear Friend : — I heartily thank you for the privilege 
of reading the maniisCTipt of your Narrative. I have read it 
with deep interest and strong emotion.' I am much mistaken 
if it be not greatly successful and eminently useful. It pre- 
sents a different ])hase of the infernal slave-system from 
that portrayed in the admirable story of Mr. Douglass, and 
gives us a glimpse of its hideous cruelties in other j)ortions 
of its domain. 

Your opportunities of observing the workings of tliis 
accursed system have been singularly great. Your experi- 
ences in the Field, in the House, and especially on the River 
in the service of the slave-trader. Walker, have been such as 
few individuals have had ; — no one, certainly, wlio has been 
competent to describe them. What I have admired, and 



VI LETTER FROM EDMUND QUINCY, ESQ. 

marvelled at, in your Narrative, is the simplicity and calm- 
ness with which you describe scenes and actions which 
might well "move the very stones to rise and mutiny" 
against the National Institution which makes them possible. 

You will perceive that I have made very sparing use of 
your flattering permission to alter what you had written. 
To correct a few errors, which appeared to be merely cleri- 
cal ones, committed in the hurry of comj)Osition, under 
unfavorable circumstances, and to suggest a few curtail- 
ments, is all that I have ventured to do. I should be a bold 
man, as well as a vain one, if I should attempt to improve 
yoift- descriptions of what you have seen and suffered. 
Some of the scenes are not unworthy of De Foe himself. 

I trust and believe that your Narrative will have a wide 
circulation. I am sure it deserves it. At least, a man must 
be differently constituted from me, who can rise from the 
perusal of your Narrative without feeling that he understands 
slavery better, and hates it worse, than he ever did before. 

I am, very faithfully and respectfully, 

Your friend, 

EDMUND QUINCY. 



PREFACE 



The friends of freedom may well congratulate each other 
on the appearance of the following Narrative. It adds 
another volume to the rapidly increasing anti-slavery litera- 
ture of the age. It has been remarked by a close observer 
of human nature, "Let me make the songs of a nation, and 
I care not who makes its laws ; " and it may with equal truth 
be said, that, among a reading people like our own, their 
books will at least give character to their laws. It is an 
influence which goes forth noiselessly upon its mission, but 
fails not to find its way to many a warm heart, to kindle on 
the altar tliereof the fires of freedom, which will one day 
break forth in a living flamQ to consume oppression. 

This little book is a voice from the prison-house, unfold- 
ing the deeds of darkness Avhich are there perpetrated. Our 
cause has received efficient aid from this source. The 
names of those who have come from thence, and battled 
manfully for the right, need not to be recorded here. The 
works of sonic of them are an enduring monument of praise, 
and their perpetual record shall be found in the grateful 
hearts of the redeemed bondman. 



VIU PREFACE. 

Few persons have had greater facilities for becoming 
acquainted with slavery, in all its horrible aspects, than 
William W. Brown. He has been behind the curtain* 
He has visited its secret chambers. Its iron has entered his 
own soul. The dearest ties of nature have been riven in his 
own person. A mother has been cruelly scourged before 
his own eyes. A father, — alas! slaves have no father. A 
brother has been made the subject of its tender mercies. A 
sister has been given up to the irresponsible control of the 
pale-faced oppressor. This nation looks on approvingly. 
The American Union sanctions the deed. The Constitution 
shields the criminals. American religion sanctifies the 
crime. But the tide is turning. Already, a mighty under- 
current is sweeping onward. The voice of warning, of 
remonstrance, of rebuke, of entreaty, has gone forth. Hand 
is linked in hand, and heart mingles with heart, in this great 
work of the slave's deliverance. 

The convulsive throes of the monster, even now, give 
evidence of deep wounds. 

The %vi*iter of this Nan-ative was hired by his master to a 
^^ soul-driver,''^ and has witnessed all the horrors of the traffic, 
from the buying up of human cattle in the slave-breeding 
States, which produced a constant scene of separating the 
victims from all those whom they loved, to their final sale 
in the southern market, to be worked up in seven years, or 
given over to minister to the lust of southern Christians. 

Many harrowing scenes are graphically portrayed ; and 
yet with that simplicity and ingenuousness which carries 
with it a conviction of the truthfulness of tlie picture. 



PREFACE. IX 

This book will do much to unmask those who have 
"clothed themselves in the livery of the court of heaven" to 
cover up the enormity of their deeds. 

During the past three years, the author has devoted his 
entire energies to the anti-slavery cause. Laboring under 
all the disabilities and disadvantages growing out of his 
education in slavery — subjected, as he had been from his 
birth, to all the wrongs and deprivations incident to his 
condition — he yet went forth, impelled to the work by a 
love of liberty — stimulated by the remembrance of his own 
sufferings — urged on by the consideration that a mother, 
brothers, and sister, were still grinding in the prison-house 
of bondage, in common with three millions of our Father's 
children — sustained by an unfaltering faith in the omnipo- 
tence of truth and the final triumph of justice — to plead the 
cause of the slave, and by the eloquence of earnestness 
carried conviction to many minds, and enlisted the sympathy 
and secured the co-operation of many to the cause. 

His labors have been chiefly confined to Western New 
York, where he has secured many warm friends, by his 
untiring zeal, persevering energy, continued fidelity, and 
universal kindness. 

Reader, are you an Abolitionist? What have you done 
for the slave ? What are you doing in his behalf? What 
do you purpose to do ? There is a great work before us ! 
Who will be an idler now? This is the great humanitary 
movem^ent of the age, swallowing up, for the time being, all 
other questions, comparatively speaking. The course of 



X PREFACE. 

human events, in obedience to the unchangeable laws of our 
being, is fast hastening the final crisis, and 

" Have ye chosen, O my people, on whose party ye shall stand, 

Ere the Doom from its worn sandal shakes the dust against our land ? " 

Are you a Christian ? This is the carrying out of practical 
Christianity ; and there is no other. Christianity is practical 
in its very nature and essence. It is a life, springing out of 
a soul imbued with its spirit. Are you a friend of the mis- 
sionary cause ? This is the greatest missionary enterprize 
of the day. Three millions of Christian, law-manufactured 
heathen are longing for the glad tidings of the Gospel of 
freedom. Are you a friend of the Bible ? Come, then, and 
help us to restore to these millions, whose eyes have 
been bored out by slaver)^, their sight, thra they may see to 
read the Bible. Do you love God whom you have not seen ? 
Then manifest that love, by restoring to your brother whom 
you have seen, his rightful inheritance, of which he has been 
so long and so cruelly deprived. 

It is not for a single generation alone, numbering three 
millions — sublime as would be that effort — that we are 
working. It is for humanity, the wide world over, not only 
now, but for all coming time, and all future generations: — 

" For he who settles Freedom's principles, 
Writes the death-warrant of all tyranny." 

It is a vast work — a glorious enterprize — worthy the 
unswerving devotion of the entire life-time of the great and 
the good. 



PREFACE. XI 

Slaveholding and slaveholders must be rendered disrepu- 
table and odious. They must be stripped of their respecta- 
bility and Christian reputation. They must be treated as 
" MEN-STEALERs — guilty of the highest kind of theft, and 
sinners of the first rank." Their more guilty accomplices in 
the persons of northern apologists, both in Church and State, 
must be placed in the same category. Honest men must be 
made to look upon their crimes with the same abhorrence 
and loathing, with Avhich they regard the less guilty robber 
and assassin, until 

"The common damned shun their society, 
And look upon themselves as fiends less foul." 

When a just estimate is placed upon the crime of slave- 
holding, the work will have been accomplished, and the 
glorious day ushered in — 

" When man nor woman in all our wide domain, 
Shall buy, or sell, or hold, or be a slave." 

J. C. HATHAWAY. 

Farmington, N. Y., 1847. 



r 



NARRATIVE 



CHAPTER I. 

I WAS born in Lexington, Ky. The man who 
stole me as soon as I was born, recorded the births 
of all the infants which he claimed to be born his 
property, in a book which he kept for that purpose. 
My mother's name was Elizabeth. She had seven 
children, viz : Solomon, Leander, Benjamin, Joseph, 
Millford, Elizabeth, and myself. No two of us were 
children of the same father. My father's name, as 
I learned from my mother, was George Higgins. 
He was a white man, a relative of my master, and 
connected with some of the first families in Ken- 
tucky. 

My master owned about forty slaves, twenty-five 
of whom were field hands. He removed from 



14 NARRATIVE OF THE 

Kentucky to Missouri, when I was quite young, and 
settled thirty or forty miles above St. Charles, on 
the Missouri, where, in addition to his practice as a 
physician, he carried on milling, merchandizing and 
farming. He had a large farm, the principal pro- 
ductions of which were tobacco and hemp. The 
slave cabins were situated on the back part of the 
farm, with the house of the overseer, whose name 
was Grove Cook, in their midst. He had the entire 
charge of the farm, and having no family, was 
allowed a woman to keep house for him, whose 
business it was to deal out the provisions for the 
hands. 

A woman was also kept at the quarters to do the 
cooking for the field hands, who were summoned 
to their unrequited toil every morning at four o'clock, 
by the ringing of a bell, hung on a post near the 
house of the overseer. They were allowed half an 
hour to eat their breakfast, and get to the field. At 
half past four, a horn was blown by the overseer, 
which was the signal to commence work ; and every 
one that was not on the spot at the time, had to 
receive ten lashes from the negro-whip, with which 
the overseer always went armed. The handle was 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 15 

about three feet long, with the butt-end filled with 
lead, and the lash six or seven feet in length, made 
of cowhide, with platted wire on the end of it. 
This whip was put in requisition very frequently and 
freely, and a small offence on the part of a slave fur- 
nished an occasion for its use. During the time that 
Mr. Cook was overseer, I was a house servant — a 
situation preferable to that of a field hand, as I was 
better fed, better clothed, and not obliged to rise at 
the ringing of the bell, but about half an hour after. 
I have often laid and heard the crack of the whip, 
and the screams of the slave. My mother was a 
field hand, and one morning was ten or fifteen min- 
utes behind the others in getting into the field. As 
soon as she reached the spot where they were at 
work, the overseer commenced whipping her. She 
cried, " Oh ! pray — Oh ! pray — Oh ! pray " — 
these are generally the words of slaves, when im- 
ploring mercy at the hands of their oppressors. I 
heard her voice, and knew it, and jumped out of my 
bunk, and went to the door. Though the field was 
some distance from the house, I could hear every 
crack of the whip, and every groan and cry of my 
poor mother. I remained at the door, not daring 



16 NARRATIVE OF THE 

to venture any farther. Ths cold chills rr.n over 
me, and I wept aloud. After giving her ten lashes, 
the sound of the whip ceased, and I returned to my 
bed, and found no consolation but in my tears. It 
was not yet daylight. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 17 



CHAPTER II. 

My master being a political demagogue, soon 
found those who were ready to put him into office, 
for the favors he could render them ; and a few 
years after his arrival in Missouri, he was elected to 
a seat in the Legislature. In his absence from 
home, everything was left in charge of Mr. Cooky 
the overseer, and he soon became more tyrannical 
and cruel. Among ihe slaves on the plantation, 
was one by the name of Randall. He was a man 
about six feet high, and well-proportioned, and 
known as a man of great strength and power. He 
was considered the most valuable and able-bodied 
slave on the plantation ; but no matter how good or 
useful a slave may be, he seldom escapes the lash. 
But it was not so with Randall. He had been on 
the plantation since my earliest recollection, and I 
had never known of his being flogged. No thanks 
were due to the master or overseer for this. . I have 
2 



18 NARRATIVE OF THE 

often heard him declare, that no white man should 
ever whip him — that he would die first. 

Cook, from the time that he came upon the plan- 
tation, had frequently declared, that he could and 
would flog any nigger that was put into the field to 
work under him. My master had repeatedly told 
him not to attempt to whip Randall, but he was 
determined to try it. As soon as he was left sole 
dictator, he thought the time had come to put his 
threats into execution. He soon began to find fault 
with Randall, and threatened to whip him, if he did 
not do better. One day he gave him a very hard 
task, — more than he could possibly do ; and at 
night, the task not being performed, he told Randall 
that he should remember him the next morning. 
On the following morning, after the hands had taken 
breakfast. Cook called out to Randall, and told him 
that he intended to whip him, and ordered him to 
cross his hands and be tied. Randall asked why 
he wished to whip him. He answered, because he 
had not finished his task the day before. Randall 
said that the task was too great, or he should have 
done it. Cook said it made no difference, — he 
should , whip him. Randall stood silent for a 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 19 

moment, and then said, " Mr. Cook, I have always 
tried to please you since you have been on the 
plantation, and I find you are determined not to be 
satisfied with my work, let me do as well as I may. 
No man has laid hands on me, to whip me, for the 
last ten years, and I have long since come to the 
conclusion not to be whipped by any man living." 
Cook, finding by Randall's determined look and 
gestures, that he would resist, called three of the 
hands from their work, and commanded them to 
seize Randall, and tie him. The hands stood still ; 
— they knew Randall — and they also knew him 
to be a powerful man, and were afraid to grapple 
with him. As soon as Cook had ordered the men 
to seize him, Randall turned to them, and said — 
" Boys, you all know me ; you know that I can 
handle any three of you, and the man that lays 
hands on me shall die. This white man can't whip 
me himself, and therefore he has called you to help 
him." The overseer was unable to prevail upon 
them to seize and secure Randall, and finally 
ordered them all to go to their work together. 

Nothing was said to Randall by the overseer, for 
more than a week. One morning, however, while 



20 NARRATIVE OF THE 

the hands were at work in the field, he came into 
it, accompanied by three friends of liis, Thompson, 
Woodbridge and Jones. They came up to where 
Randall was at work, and Cook ordered him to 
leave his work, and go with them to the barn. He 
refused to go ; whereupon he was attacked by the 
overseer and his companions, when he turned upon 
them, and laid them, one after another, prostrate on 
the ground. Woodbridge drew out his pistol, and 
fired at him, and brought him to the ground by a 
pistol ball. The others rushed upon him with their 
clubs, and beat him over the head and face, until 
they succeeded in tying him. He was then taken to 
the barn, and tied to a beam. Cook gave him over 
one hundred lashes with a heavy cowhide, had him 
washed with salt and water, and left him tied during 
the day. The next day he was untied, and taken 
to a blacksmith's shop, and had a ball and chain 
attached to his leg. He was compelled to labor in 
the field, and perform the same amount of work 
that the other hands did. When his master re- 
turned home, he was much pleased to find that 
Randall had been subdued in his absence. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 21 



CHx\PTER III. 

Soon afterwards, my master removed to the city 
of St. Louis, and purchased a farm four miles from 
there, which he placed under the charge of an over- 
seer by the name of Friend Haskell. He was a 
regular Yankee from New England. The Yankees 
are noted for making the most cruel overseers. 

My mother was hired out in the city, and I was 
also hired out there to Major Freeland, who kept a 
public house. He was formerly from Virginia, and 
was a horse-racer, cock-fighter, gambler, and withal 
an inveterate drunkard. There were ten or twelve 
servants in the house, and when he was present, it 
was cut and slash — knock down and drag out. In 
his fits of anger, he would take up a chair, and 
throw it at a servant; and in his more rational 
moments, when he wished to chastise one, he would 
tie them up in the smoke-house, and whip them ; 
after which, he would cause a fire to be made of 



22 NARRATIVE OF THE 

tobacco stems, and smoke them. This he called 
c( Virginia play J ^ 

I complained to my master of the treatment which 
I received from Major Freeland ; but it made no 
difference. He cared nothing about it, so long as 
he received the money for my labor. After living 
w^ith Major Freeland five or six months, I ran away, 
and went into the woods back of the city ; and when 
night came on, I made my way to my master's 
farm, but was afraid to be seen, knowing that if Mr. 
Haskell, the overseer, should discover me, I should 
be again carried back to Major Freeland ; so I kept 
in the woods. One day, while in the woods, I 
heard the barking and howling of dogs, and in a 
short time they came so near, that I knew them to 
be the bloodhounds of Major Benjamin O'Fallon. 
He kept five or six, to hunt runaway slaves with. 

As soon as I was convinced that it was them, I 
knew there was no chance of escape. I took refuge 
in the top of a tree, and the hounds were soon at its 
base, and there remained until the hunters came up 
in a half or three quarters of an hour afterwards. 
There were two men with the dogs, who, as soon 
as they came up, ordered me to descend. I came 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 23 

down, was tied, and taken to St. Louis jail. Major 
Freeland soon made his appearance, and took me 
out, and ordered me to follow him, which I did. 
After we returned home, I was tied up in the smoke- 
house, and was very severely whipped. After the 
Major had flogged me to his satisfaction, he sent out 
his son Robert, a young man eighteen or twenty 
years of age, to see that I was well smoked. He 
made a fire of tobacco stems, which soon set me to 
coughing and sneezing. This, Robert told me, was 
the way his father used to do to his slaves in Vir- 
ginia. After giving me what they conceived to be a 
decent smoking, I was untied and again set to work. 
Robert Freeland was a " chip of the old block." 
Though quite young, it was not unfrequently that 
he came home in a state of intoxication. He is 
now, I believe, a popular commander of a steamboat 
on the Mississippi river. Major Freeland soon after 
failed in business, and I was put on board the 
steamboat Missouri, which plied between St. Louis 
and Galena. The commander of the boat was 
William B. Culver. I remained on her during the 
sailing season, which was the most pleasant time for 
Die that I had ever experienced. At the close of 



24 NARRATIVE OF THE 

navigation, I was hired to Mr. John Colburn, keeper 
of the Missouri Hotel. He was from one of the Free 
States ; but a more inveterate hater of the negro, I 
do not believe ever walked on God's green earth. 
This hotel was at that time one of the largest in the 
city, and there were employed in it twenty or thirty 
servants, mostly slaves. 

Mr. Colburn was very abusive, not only to the 
servants, but to his wife also, who was an excellent 
woman, and one from whom I never knew a servant 
to receive a harsh word ; but never did I know a 
kind one to a servant from her husband. Among 
the slaves employed in the hotel, was one by the 
name of Aaron, who belonged to Mr. John F. 
Darby, a lawyer. Aaron was the knife-cleaner. 
One day, one of the knives was put on the table, 
not as clean as it might have been. Mr. Colburn, 
for this offence, tied Aaron up in the wood-house, 
and gave him over fifty lashes on the bare back 
with a cowhide, after which, he made me wash him 
down with rum. This seemed to put him into 
more agony than the whipping. After being untied, 
he went home to his master, and complained of the 
treatment which he had received, Mr. Darby 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 25 

would give no heed to anything he had to say, but 
sent him directly back. Colburn, learning that he 
had been to his master with complaints, tied him up 
again, and gave him a more severe whipping than 
before. The poor fellow's back was literally cut to 
pieces ; so much so, that he was not able to work 
for ten or twelve days. 

There was also, among the servants, a girl whose 
master resided in the country. Her name was 
Patsey. Mr. Colburn tied her up one evening, and 
whipped her until several of the boarders came out 
and begged him to desist. The reason for whipping 
her was this. She was engaged to be married to a 
man belonging to Major William Christy, who 
resided four or five miles north of the city. Mr. 
Colburn had forbid her to see John Christy. The 
reason of this was said to be the regard which he 
himself had for Patsey. She went to meeting that 
evening, and John returned home with her. Mr. 
Colburn had intended to flog John, if he came 
within the inclosure ; but John knew too well the 
temper of his rival, and kept at a safe distance ; — 
so he took vengeance on the poor girl. If all the 
slave-drivers had been called together, I do not think 



26 NARRATIVE OF THE 

a more cruel man than John Colburn, — and he too 
a northern man, — could have been found among 
them. 

While living at the Missouri Hotel, a circum- 
stance occurred which caused me great unhappiness. 
My master sold my mother, and all her children, 
except myself. They were sold to different persons 
in the city of St. Louis. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 27 



CHAPTER IV. 

I WAS soon after taken from Mr. Cojburn's, and 
hired to Elijah P. Lovejoy, who was at that time 
pubhsher and editor of the " St. Louis Times." 
My work, while with him, was mainly in the print- 
ing office, waiting on the hands, working the press, 
&c. Mr. Lovejoy was a very good man, and de- 
cidedly the best master that I had ever had. I am 
chiefly indebted to him, and to my employment in 
the printing office, for what little learning I obtained 
while in slavery. 

Though slavery is thought, by some, to be mild 
in Missouri, when compared with the cotton, sugar 
and rice growing States, yet no part of our slave- 
holding country, is more noted for the barbarity of 
its inhabitants, than St. Louis. It was here that 
Col. Harney, a United States officer, whipped a 
slave woman to death. It was here that Francis 
McLitosh, a free colored man from Pittsburgh, was 



28 NARRATIVE OF THE 

taken from the steamboat Flora, and burned at the 
stake. During a residence of eight years in this 
city, numerous cases of extreme cruelty came under 
my own observation; — to record them all, would 
occupy more space than could possibly be allowed in 
this little volume. I shall, therefore, give but a few 
more, in addition to what I have already related. 

Capt. J. B. Brunt, who resided near my master, 
had a slave named John. He was his body servant, 
carriage driver, &c. On one occasion, w^hile driving 
his master through the city, — the streets being very 
muddy, and the horses going at a rapid rate, — 
some mud spattered upon a gentleman by the name 
of Robert More. More was determined to be re- 
venged. Some three or' four months after this 
occurrence, he purchased John, for the express pur- 
pose, as he said, ''to tame the d — d nigger." After 
the purchase, he took him to a blacksmith's shop, 
and had a ball and chain fastened to his leg, and 
then put him to driving a yoke of oxen, and kept 
him at hard labor, until the iron around his leg was 
so worn into the flesh, that it was thought mortifica- 
tion would ensue. In addition to this, John told me 
that his master whipped him regularly three times a 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 29 

week for the first two months: — and all this to 
'' tame him.'''' A more noble looking man than he, 
was not to be found in all St. Louis, before he fell 
into the hands of More ; and a more degraded and 
spirit-crushed looking being was never seen on a 
southern plantation, after he had been subjected to 
this ''taming^'' process for three mcwiths. The 
last time that I saw him, he had nearly lost the en- 
tire use of his limbs. 

While living with Mr. Lovejoy, I was often sent 
on errands to the office of the " Missouri Republi- 
can," published by Mr. Edward Charles. Once, 
while returning to the office with type, I was 
attacked by several large boys, sons of slave-holders, 
who pelted me with snow-balls. Having the heavy 
form of type in my hands, I could not make my es- 
cape by running; so I laid down the type and gave 
them battle. They gathered around me, pelting me 
with stones and sticks, until they overpowered me, 
and would have captured me, if I had not resorted 
to my heels. Upon my retreat, they took possession 
of the type ; and what to do to regain it I could not 
devise. Knowing Mr. Lovejoy to be a very humane 
man, I went to the office, and laid the case before 



30 NARRATIVE OF THE 

li'im. He told me to remain in the office. He took 
one of the apprentices with him, and went after the 
type, and soon returned with it ; but on his return 
informed me that Samuel McKinney had told him 
that he would whip me, because I had hurt his boy. 
Soon after, McKinney was seen making his way to 
the office by one of the printers, who informed me 
of the fact, and I made my escape through the back 
door. 

McKinney not being able to find me on his 
arrival, left the office in a great rage, swearing that 
he would whip me to death. A few days after, as 
I was walking along Main Street, he seized me by 
the collar, and struck me over the head five or six 
times with a large cane, which caused the blood to 
gush from my nose and ears in such a manner that 
my clothes were completely saturated with blood. 
After beating me to his satisfaction, he let me go, 
and I returned to the office so weak from the loss 
of blood, that Mr. Lovejoy sent me home to my 
master. It was five weeks before I was able to 
walk again. During this time, it was necessary to 
have some one to supply my place at the office, 
and I lost the situation. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 31 

After my recovery, I was hired to Capt. Otis 
Reynolds, as a waiter on board the steamboat En- 
terprize, owned by Messrs. John and Edward 
Walsh, commission merchants at St. Louis. This 
boat was then running on the upper Mississippi. 
My employment on board was to wait on gentle- 
men, and the captain being a good man. the situa- 
tion was a pleasant one to me; — but in passing 
from place to place, and seeing new faces every 
day, and knowing that they could go where they 
pleased, I soon became unhappy, and several times 
thought of leaving the boat at some landing place, 
and trying to make my escape to Canada, which I 
had heard much about as a place where the slave 
might live, be free, and be protected. 

But whenever such thoughts would come into 
my mind, my resolution would soon be shaken by 
the remembrance that my dear mother was a slave 
in St. Louis, and I could not bear the idea of 
leaving her in that condition. She had often taken 
me upon her knee, and told me how she had car- 
ried me upon her back to the field when I was an 
infant — how often she had been whipped for 
leaving her work to nurse me — and how happy I 



32 NARRATIVE OF THE 

would appear when she would take me into her 
arms. When these thoughts came over me, I 
would resolve never to leave the land of slavery 
without my mother. I thought that to leave her in 
slavery, after she had undergone and suffered so 
much for me, would be proving recreant to the 
duty which 1 owed to her. Besides this, I had 
three brothers and a sister there, — two of my 
brothers having died. 

My mother, my brothers Joseph and Millford, 
and my sister Elizabeth, belonged to Mr. Isaac 
Mansfield, formerly from one of the Free States, 
(Massachusetts, I believe.) He was a tinner by 
trade, and carried on a large manufacturing estab- 
lishment. Of all my relatives, mother was first, 
and sister next. One evening, while visiting them, I 
made some allusion to a proposed journey to Can- 
ada, and sister took her seat by my side, and taking 
my hand in hers, said, with tears in her eyes, — 

'' Brother, you are not going to leave mother and 
your dear sister here without a friend, are you ? " 

I looked into her face, as the tears coursed 
swiftly down her cheeks, and bursting into tears 
myself, said — 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 33 

" No, I will never desert you and mother." 
She clasped my hand in hers, and said — 
" Brother, you have often declared that you 
would not end your days in slavery. I see no pos- 
sible way in which you can escape with us ; and 
now, brother, you are on a steamboat where there 
is some chance for you to escape to a land of 
liberty. I beseech you not to let us hinder you. 
If we cannot get our liberty, we do not wish to be 
the means of keeping you from a land of freedom." 
I could restrain my feelings no longer, and an 
outburst of my own feelings, caused her to cease 
speaking upon that subject. In opposition to their 
wishes, I pledged myself not to leave them in the 
hand of the oppressor. I took leave of them, and 
returned to the boat, and laid down in my bunk ; 
but '' sleep departed from my eyes, and slumber 
from my eyelids." 

A few weeks after, on our downward passage, 
the boat took on board, at Hannibal, a drove of 
slaves, bound for the New Orleans market. They 
numbered from fifty to sixty, consisting of men and 
women from eighteen to forty years of age. A 
drove of slaves on a southern steamboat, bound for 
3 



34 NARRATIVE OF THE 

the cotton or sugar regions, is an occurrence so 
common, that no one, not even the passengers, 
appear to notice it, though they clank their chains 
at every step. There was, however, one in this 
gang that attracted the attention of the passen- 
gers and crew. It was a beautiful girl, apparently 
about twenty years of age, perfectly white, with 
straight light hair and blue eyes. But it was not 
the whiteness of her skin that created such a sensa- 
tion among those who gazed upon her — it was 
her almost unparalleled beauty. She had been on 
the boat but a short time, before the attention of all 
the passengers, including the ladies, had been called 
to her, and the common topic of conversation was 
about the beautiful slave-girl. She was not in 
chains. The man who claimed this article of human 
merchandize was a Mr. Walker, — a well known 
slave-trader, residing in St. Louis. There was a 
general anxiety among the passengers and crew to 
learn the history of the girl. Her master kept 
close by her side, and it would have been consider- 
ed impudent for any of the passengers to have 
spoken to her, and the crew were not allowed to 
have any conversation with them. When we 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 35 

reached St. Louis, the slaves were removed to a 
boat bound for New Orleans, and the history of the 
beautiful slave-girl remained a mystery. 

I remained on the boat during the season, and it 
was not an unfrequent occurrence to have on board 
gangs of slaves on their way to the cotton, sugar 
and rice plantations of the South. 

Toward the latter part of the summer. Captain 
Reynolds left the boat, and I was sent home. I 
was then placed on the farm under Mr. Haskell, 
the overseer. As I had been some time out of the 
field, and not accustomed to work in the burning 
sun, it was very hard ; but I was compelled to kee 
up with the best of tlic hands. 

I found a great difference between the work in a 
steamboat cabin and that in a corn-field. 

My master, who was then living in the city, soon 
after removed to the farm, when I was taken out 
of the field to work in tiie house as a waiter. 
Though his wife was very peevish, and hard to 
please, I much preferred to be under her control 
than the overseer's. They brought with them Mr. 
Sloane, a Presbyterian minister ; Miss Martha 
Tulley, a neice of theirs from Kentucky; and 



6b NARRATIVE OF THE 

their nephew WilHam. The latter had been in the 
family a number of years, but the others were all 
new-comers. 

Mr. Sloane was a young minister, who had been 
at the South but a short time, and it seemed as if 
his whole aim was to please the slaveholders, 
especially my master and mistress. He was intend- 
ing to make a visit during the winter, and he not 
only tried to please them, but I think he succeeded 
admirably. When they wanted singing, he sung; 
when they wanted praying, he prayed ; when they 
wanted a story told, he told a story. Instead of his 
teaching my master theology, my master taught 
theology to him. While I was with Captain Rey- 
nolds, my master "got religion," and new laws 
were made on the plantation. Formerly, we had 
the privilege of hunting, fishing, making splint 
brooms, baskets, &c. on Sunday ; but this was all 
stopped. Every Sunday, we were all compelled to 
attend meeting. Master was so religious, that he 
induced some others to join him in hiring a 
preacher to preach to the slaves. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM VV. BROWN. 37 



CHAPTER V. 

My master had family worship, night and morn- 
ing. At night, the slaves were called in to attend j 
but in the mornings, they had to be at their work, 
and master did all the praying. My master and 
mistress were great lovers of mint julep, and every 
morning, a pitcher-full was made, of which they all 
partook freely, not excepting little master William. 
After drinking freely all round, they would have 
family worship, and then breakfast. I cannot say 
but I loved the julep as well as any of them, and 
during prayer was always careful to seat myself 
close to the table where it stood, so as to help my- 
self when they were all busily engaged in their 
devotions. By the time prayer was over, I was 
about as happy as any of them. A sad accident 
happened one morning. In helping myself, and at 
the same time keeping an eye on my old mistress, I 
accidentally let the pitcher fall upon the floor, 



38 NARRATIVE OF THE 

breaking it in pieces, and spilling the contents. 
This was a bad affair for me ; for as soon as prayer 
was over, I was taken and severely chastised. 

My master's family consisted of himself, his wife, 
and their nephew, William Moore. He was taken 
into the family, when only a few weeks of age. 
His name being that of my own, mine was changed, 
for the purpose of giving precedence to his, though 
I was his senior by ten or twelve years. The plan- 
tation being four miles from the city, I had to drive 
the family to church. I always dreaded the ap- 
proach of the Sabbath ; for, during service, I was 
obliged to stand by the horses in the hot broiling 
sun, or in the rain, just as it happened. 

One Sabbath, as we were driving past the house 
of D. D. Page, a gentleman who owned a large 
baking establishment, as I was sitting upon the box 
of the carriage, which was very much elevated, 
I saw Mr. Page pursuing a slave around the yard, 
with a long whip, cutting him at every jump. The 
man soon escaped from the yard, and was followed 
by Mr. Page. They came running past us, and 
the slave perceiving that he would be overtaken, 
stopped suddenly, and Page stumbled over him, 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 39 

and falling on the stone pavennent, fractured one of 
his legs, which crippled him for life. The same 
gentleman, but a short time previous, tied up a 
woman of his, by the name of Delphia, and whipped 
her nearly to death ; yet he was a deacon in the 
Baptist church, in good and regular standing. 
Poor Delphia ! I was well acquainted with her, and 
called to see her while upon her sick bed ; and I 
shall never forget her appearance. She was a 
member of the same church with her master. 

Soon after this, I was hired out to Mr. Walker; 
the same man whom I have mentioned as having 
carried a gang of slaves down the river, on the 
steamboat Enterprize. Seeing me in the capacity 
of steward on the boat, and thinking that I would 
make a good hand to take care of slaves, he deter- 
mined to have me for that purpose ; and finding 
that my master would not sell me, he hired me for 
the term of one year. 

When I learned the fact of my having been 
hired to a negro speculator, or a "soul-driver" as 
they are generally called among slaves, no one can 
tell my emotions. Mr. Walker had offered a high 
price for me, as I afterwards learned, but I suppose 



40 NARRATIVE OF THE 

my master was restrained from selling me by the 
fact that I was a near relative of his. On entering 
the service of Mr. Walker, I found that my oppor- 
tunity of getting to a land of liberty was gone, at 
least for the time being. He had a gang of slaves 
in readiness to start for New Orleans, and in a few 
days we were on our journey. I am at a loss for 
language to express my feelings on that occasion. 
Although my master had told me that he had not 
sold me, and Mr. Walker had told me that he had 
not purchased me, I did not believe them ; and not 
until I had been to New Orleans, and was on my 
return, did I believe that I was not sold. 

There was on the boat a large room on the lower 
deck, in which the slaves were kept, men and 
women, promiscuously — all chained two and two, 
and a strict watch kept that they did not get loose ; 
for cases have occurred in which slaves have got 
off their chains, and made their escape at landing- 
places, while the boats were taking in wood ; — and 
with all our care, we lost one woman who had been 
taken from her husband and children, and having 
no desire to live without them, in the agony of her 
soul jumped overboard, and drowned herself. She 
was not chained. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 41 

It was almost impossible to keep that part of the 
boat clean. 

On landing at Natchez, the slaves were all carried 
to the slave-pen, and there kept one week, during 
which time, several of them were sold. Mr. Walker 
fed his slaves well. We took on board, at St. 
Louis, several hundred pounds of bacon (smoked 
meat) and corn-meal, and his slaves were better fed 
than slaves generally were in Natchez, so far as my 
observation extended. 

At tlie end of a week, we left for New Orleans, 
the place of our final destination, which we reached 
in two days. Here the slaves were placed in a 
negro-pen, where those who wished to purchase 
could call and examine them. The negro-pen is a 
small yard, surrounded by buildings, from fifteen 
to twenty feet wide, with the exception of a large 
gate with iron bars. The slaves are kept in the 
buildings during the night, and turned out into the 
yard during the day. After the best of the stock 
was sold at private sale at the pen, the balance 
were taken to the Exchange Coffee House Auction 
Rooms, kept by Isaac L. McCoy, and sold at 
public auction. After the sale of this lot of slaves, 
we left New Orleans for St; Louis. 



42 NARRATIVE OF THE 



CHAPTER VI. 

On our arrival at St. Louis, I went to Dr. 
Young, and told him that I did not wish to live 
with Mr. Walker any longer. I was heart-sick at 
seeing my fellow-creatures bought and sold. But 
the Dr. had hired me for the year, and stay I must. 
Mr Walker again commenced purchasing another 
gang of slaves. He bought a man of Colonel John 
O'Fallon, who resided in the suburbs of the city. 
This man had a wife and three children. As soon 
as the purchase was made, he was put in jail for 
safe keeping, until we should be ready to start for 
New Orleans. His wife visited him while there, 
several times, and several times when she went for 
that purpose was refused admittance. 

In the course of eight or nine weeks Mr. Walker 
had his cargo of human flesh made up. There 
was in this lot a number of old men and women, 
some of them with gray locks. We left St. Louis 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 43 

in the steamboat Carlton, Captain Swan, bound for 
New Orleans. On our way down, and before we 
reached Rodney, the place where we made our first 
stop, I had to prepare the old slaves for market. I 
was ordered to have the old men's whiskers shaved 
off, and the grey hairs plucked out, where they 
were not too numerous, in which case he had a 
preparation of blacking to color it, and with a 
blacking-brush we would put it on. This was new 
business to me, and was performed in a room 
where the passengers could not see us. These 
slaves were also taught how old they were by Mr. 
Walker, and after going through the blacking 
process, they looked ten or fifteen years younger ; 
and I am sure that some of those who purchased 
slaves of Mr. Walker, were dreadfully cheated, 
especially in the ages of the slaves which they 
bought. 

We landed at Rodney, and the slaves were 
driven to the pen in the back part of the village. 
Several were sold at this place, during our stay of 
four or five days, when we proceeded to Natchez. 
There we landed at night, and the gang were put 
in the VAarehouse until morning, when they were 



44 NARRATIVE OF THE 

driven to the pen. As soon as the slaves are put 
in these pens, swarms of planters may be seen in 
and about them. They knew when Walker was 
expected, as he always had the time advertised 
beforehand when he would be in Rodney, Natchez, 
and New Orleans. These were the principal 
places where he offered his slaves for sale. . 

When at Natchez the second time, I saw a slave 
very cruelly whipped. He belonged to a Mr. 
Broadwell, a merchant who kept a store on the 
wharf. The slave's name was Lewis. I had 
known him several years, as he w^as formerly from 
St. Louis. We were expecting a steamboat down 
the river, in which we were to take passage for 
New Orleans. Mr. Walker sent me to the landing 
to watch for the boat, ordering me to inform him 
on its arrival. While there, I went into the store 
to see Lewis. I saw a slave in the store, and asked 
him where Lewis was. Said he, ''They have got 
Lewis hanging between the heavens and the earth." 
I asked him what he meant by that. He told me 
to go into the warehouse and see. I w^ent in, and 
found Lewds there. He was tied up to a beam, 
with his toes just touching the floor. As there was 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 45 

no one in the warehouse but himself, I inquired 
the reason of his being in that situation. He said 
Mr. Broadwell had sold his wife to a planter six 
miles from the city, and that he had been to visit 
her, — that he went in the night, expecting to 
return before daylight, and went without his 
master's permission. The patrol had taken him up 
before he reached his wife. He was put in jail, 
and his master had to pay for his catching and 
keeping, and that was what he was tied up for. 

Just as he finished his story, Mr. Broadwell came 
in, and inquired what I was doing there. I knew 
not what to say, and while I was thinking what 
reply to make, he struck me over the head with 
the cowhide, the end of which struck me over my 
right eye, sinking deep into the flesh, leaving a scar 
which I carry to this day. Before 1 visited Lewis, 
he had received fifty lashes. Mr. Broadwell gave 
him fifty lashes more after I came out, as I was 
afterwards informed by Lewis himself. 

The next day we proceeded to New Orleans, and 
put the gang in the same negro-pen which we 
occupied before. In a short time, the planters 
came flocking to the pen to purchase slaves. Be- 



46 NARRATIVE OF THE 

fore the slaves were exhibited for sale, they were 
dressed and driven out into the yard. Some were 
set to dancing, some to jumping, some to singing, 
and some to playing cards. This was done to 
make them appear cheerful and happy. My 
business was to see that they were placed in those 
situations before the arrival of the purchasers, and I 
have often set them to dancing when their cheeks 
were wet with tears. As slaves were in good 
demand at that time, they were all soon disposed 
of, and we again set out for St. Louis. 

On our arrival, Mr. Walker purchased a farm 
five or six miles from the city. He had no family, 
but made a housekeeper of one of his female 
slaves. Poor Cynthia! I knew her well. She was 
a quadroon, and one of the most beautiful women 
I ever saw. She was a native of St. Louis, and 
bore an irreproachable character for virtue and 
propriety of conduct. Mr. Walker bought her for 
the New Orleans market, and took her down with 
him on one of the trips that I made with him. 
Never shall I forget the circumstances of that voy- 
age ! On the first night that we were on board the 
steamboat, he directed me to put her into a state- 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 47 

room he had provided for her, apart from the other 
slaves. I had seen too much of the workings of 
slavery, not to know what this meant. I according- 
ly watched him into the state-room, and listened to 
hear what passed between them. I heard him 
make his base offers, and her reject them. He told 
her that if she would accept his vile proposals, he 
would take her back with him to St. Louis, and 
establish her as his housekeeper at his farm. But 
if she persisted in rejecting them, he would sell her 
as a field hand on the worst plantation on the river. 
Neither threats nor bribes prevailed, however, and 
he retired, disappointed of his prey. 

The next morning, poor Cynlhia told me what 
had past, and bewailed her sad fate with floods of 
tears. I comforted and encouraged her all I could ; 
but I foresaw but too well what the result must be. 
Without entering into any farther particulars, sufBce 
it to say that Walker performed his part of the 
contract, at that time, lie took her back to St. 
Louis, established her as his mistress and house- 
keeper at his farm, and before I left, he had two 
children by her. But, mark the end ! Since I 
have been at the North, I have been credibly 



48 NARRATIVE OF THE 

informed that Walker has been married, and, as a 
previous measure, sold poor Cynthia and her four 
children (she having had two more since I came 
away) into hopeless bondage ! 

He soon commenced purchasing to make up the 
third gang. We took steamboat, and went to 
Jefferson City, a town on the Missouri river. Here 
we landed, and took stage for the interior of the 
State. He bought a number of slaves as he passed 
the different farms and villages. After getting 
twenty-two or twenty-three men and women, we 
arrived at St. Charles, a village on the banks of the 
Missouri. Here he purchased a woman who had a 
child in her arms, appearing to be four or five 
weeks old. 

We had been travelling by land for some days, 
and were in hopes to have found a boat at this 
place for St. Louis, but were disappointed. As no 
boat was expected for some days, we started for 
St. Louis by land. Mr. Walker had purchased two 
horses. He rode one, and I the other. The slaves 
were chained together, and we took up our line Oi 
march, Mr. Walker taking the lead, and I bringing 
up the rear. Though the distance was not more 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 49 

than twenty miles, we did not reach it the first day. 
The road was worse than any that I have ever 
travelled. 

Soon after we left St. Charles, the young child 
grew very cross, and kept up a noise during the 
greater part of the day. Mr. Walker complained 
of its crying several times, and told the mother to 

stop the child's d d noise, or he would. The 

woman tried to keep the child from crying, but 
could not. We put up at night with an acquaint- 
ance of Mr. Walker, and in the morning, just as 
we were about to start, the child again commenced 
crying. Walker stepped up to her, and told her to 
give the child to him. The mother tremblingly 
obeyed. He took the child by one arm, as you 
would a cat by the leg, walked into the house, 
and said to the lady, 

" Madam, I will make you a present of this little 
nigger ; it keeps such a noise that I can't bear it." 

'' Thank you, sir," said the lady. 

The mother, as soon as she saw that her child 

was to be left, ran up to Mr. Walker, and falling 

upon her knees begged him to let her have her 

child ; she clung around his legs, and cried, " Oh, 

4 



NARRATIVE OF THE 



50 

my child! my child! master, do let me have my 
child ' oh, do, do, do. I will stop its crying, if you 
will only let me have it again." When I saw this 
woman crying for her child so piteously, a shud- 
der,^a feehng akin to horror, shot through my 
frame. I have often since in imagination heard 
her crying for her child : — 

n O, master, let me stay to catch 

My baby's sobbing breath, 
His little glassy eye to watch, 
And smooth his limbs in death, 

And cover him with grass and leaf, 

Beneath the large oak tree : 
It is not sullenness, but grief,— 

O, master, pity me ! 

The morn was chill -I spoke no word. 

But feared my babe migbt die. 
And heard all day, or thought I heard. 

My little baby cry. 

At noon, oh, how I ran and took 

My baby to my breast ! 
I lingered — and the long lash broke 

My sleeping infant's rest. 

I worked till night -till darkest night, 

In torture and disgrace ; 
Went home and watched till morning light, 

To see my baby's face. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 51 

Then give me but one little hour — 

O ! do not lash me so ! 
One little hour — one little hour — 

And gratefully I'll go." 

Mr. Walker commanded her to return into the 
ranks with the other slaves. Women who had 
children were not chained, but those that had none 
were. As soon as her child was disposed of, she 
was chained in the gang. 

The following song I have often heard the slaves 
sing, when about to be carried to the far south. It 
is said to have been composed by a slave. 



" See these poor souls from Africa 

Transported to America; 

We are stolen, and sold to Georgia, 

Will you go along with me ? 

We are stolen, and sold to Georgia, 

Come sound the jubilee ! 

See wives and husbands sold apart. 

Their children's screams will break my heart 

There 's a better day a coming, 

Will you go along with me? 

There 's a better day a coming. 

Go sound the jubilee ! 



O, gracious Lord ! when shall it be, 
That we poor souls shall all be free ; 



52 NARRATIVE OF THE 

Lord, break them slavery powers — 
Will you go along with me ? 
Lord break them slavery powers, 
Go sound the jubilee ! 

Dear Lord, dear Lord, when slavery '11 cease, 
Then we poor souls will have our peace ; — 
There 's a better day a coming, 
Will you go along with me ? 
There 's a better day a coming, 
Go sound the jubilee ! " 

We finally arrived at Mr. Walker's farm. He 
had a house built during our absence to put slaves 
in. It was a kind of domestic jail. The slaves 
were put in the jail at night, and worked on the 
farm during the day. (^They were kept here until 
the gang was completed, when we again started for 
New Orleans, on board the steamboat North Amer- 
ica, Capt. Alexander Scott. We had a large num- 
ber of slaves in this gang. One, by the name of 
Joe, Mr. Walker was training up to take my place, 
as my time was nearly out, and glad was I. We 
made our first stop at Vicksburg, where we 
remained one week and sold several slaves, j 

Mr. Walker, though not a good master, had not 
flogged a slave since I had been with him, though 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 53 

he had threatened me. The slaves were kept in 
the pen, and he always put up at the best hotel, 
and kept his wines in his room, for the accommoda- 
tion of those who called to negotiate with him for 
the purchase of slaves. One day while we were at 
Vicksburg, several gentlemen came to see him for 
this purpose, and as usual the wine was called for. 
I took the tray and started around with it, and 
having accidentally filled some of the glasses too 
full, the gentlemen spilled the wine on their clothes 
as they went to drink. Mr. Walker apologized to 
them for my carelessness, but looked at me as 
though he would see me again on this subject. 

After the gentlemen had left the room, he asked 
me what I meant by my carelessness, and said that 
he would attend to me. The next morning, he 
gave me a note to carry to the jailer, and a dollar in 
money to give to him. I suspected that all was not 
right, so I went down near the landing where I met 
with a sailor, and walking up to him, asked him if 
he would be so kind as to read the note for me. 
He read it over, and then looked at me. I asked 
him to tell me what was in it. Said he, 

" They are going to give you hell." 

"Why?" said I. 



54 NARRATIVE OF THE 

He said, " This is a note to have you whipped, 
and says that you have a dollar to pay for it." 

He handed me back the note, and off I started. 
I knew not what to do, but was determined not to 
be whipped. I went up to the jail — took a look 
at it, and walked off again. As Mr. Walker was 
acquainted with the jailer, I feared that I should be 
found out if I did not go, and be treated in conse- 
quence of it still worse. 

While I was meditating on the subject, I saw a 
colored man about my size walk up, and the 
thought struck me in a moment to send him with 
my note. I walked up to him, and asked him who 
he belonged to. He said he was a free man, and 
had been in the city but a short time. I told him 
I had a note to go into the jail, and get a trunk to 
carry to one of the steamboats ; but was so busily 
engaged that I could not do it, although I had a 
dollar to pay for it. He asked me if I would not 
give him the job. I handed him the note and the 
dollar, and off he started for the jail. 

I watched to see that he went in, and as soon as 
I saw the door close behind him, I walked around 
the corner, and took my station, intending to see 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 55 

how my friend looked when he came out. I had 
been there but a short time, when a colored man 
came around the corner, and said to another colored 
man with whom he was acquainted — 

" They are giving a nigger scissors in the jail." 

" What for ? " said the other. The man con- 
tinued, 

" A nigger came into the jail, and asked for the 
jailer. The jailer came out, and he handed him a 
note, and said he wanted to get a trunk. The 
jailer told him to go with him, and he would give 
him the trunk. So he took him into the room, and 
told the nigger to give up the dollar. He said a 
man had given him the dollar to pay for getting 
the trunk. But that lie would not answer. So 
they made him strip himself, and then they tied him 
down, and are now whipping him." 

I stood by all the while listening to their talk, 
and soon found out that the person alluded to was 
my customer. I went into the street opposite the 
jail, and concealed myself in such a manner that I 
could not be seen by any one coming out. I had 
been there but a short time, when the young man 
made his appearance, and looked around for me. 



56 NARRATIVE OF THE 

I, unobserved, came forth from my hiding-place, 
behind a pile of brick, and he pretty soon saw me 
and came up to me complaining bitterly, saying 
that I had played a trick upon him. I denied any 
knowledge of what the note contained, and asked 
him what they had done to him. He told me in 
substance what I heard the man tell who had come 
out of the jail. 

"Yes," said he, " they whipped me and took my 
dollar, and gave me this note." 

He showed me the note which the jailer had 
given him, telling him to give it to his master. I 
told him I would give him fifty cents for it, — that 
being all the money I had. He gave it to me, and 
took his money. He had received twenty lashes 
on his bare back, with the negro-whip. 

I took the note and started for the hotel where I 
had left Mr. Walker. Upon reaching the hotel, I 
handed it to a stranger whom I had not seen l^efore, 
and requested him to read it to me. As near as I 
cap recollect, it was as follows : — 

"Dear Sir: — By your direction, I have given 
your boy twenty lashes. He is a very saucy boy. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 57 

and tried to make me believe that he did not 
belong to you, and I put it on to him well for lying 
to me. 

I remain, 

Your obedient servant." 

It is true that in most of the slave-holding cities, 
when a gentleman wishes his servants whipped, he 
can send him to the jail and have it done. Before 
I went in where Mr. Walker was, I wet my cheeks 
a little, as though I had been crying. He looked 
at me, and inquired what was the matter. I told 
him that I had never had such^a whipping in my 
life, and handed him the note. He looked at it 
and laughed; — ''and so you told him that you did 
not belong to me." " Yes, sir," said I. " I did 
not know that there was any harm in that." He 
told me I must behave myself, if I did not want to 
be whipped again. 

This incident shows how it is that slavery makes 
its victims lying and mean ; for which vices it 
afterwards reproaches them, and uses them as 
arguments to prove that they deserve no better 
fate. I have often, since my escape, deeply re- 



58 NARRATIVE OF THE 

grelted the deception I practised upon this poor 
fellow ; and I heartily desire that it may be, at 
some time or otlier, in my power to make him 
amends for his vicarious sufferings in my behalf. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 59 



CHAPTER VII. 

In a few days we reached New Orleans, and 
arriving there in the night, remained on board until 
morning. While at New Orleans this time, I saw 
a slave killed ; an account of which has been pub- 
lished by Theodore D. Weld, in his book entitled, 
" Slavery as it is." The circumstances were as 
follows. In the evening, between seven and eight 
o'clock, a slave came running down the levee, fol- 
lowed by several men and boys. The whites were 
crying out, ''Stop that nigger; stop that nigger;" 
while the poor panting slave, in almost breathless 
accents, was repeating, " I did not steal the meat — 
I did not steal the meat." The poor man at last 
took refuge in the river. The whites who were in 
pursuit of him, run on board of one of the boats to 
see if they could discover him. They finally 
espied him under the bow of the steamboat Tren- 
ton. They got a pike-pole, and tried to drive him 



60 NARRATIVE OF THE 

from his hiding place. When they would strike at 
him, he would dive under the water. The water 
was so cold, that it soon became evident that he 
must come out or be drowned. 

While they were trying to drive him from under 
the bow of the boat or drown him, he would in 
broken and imploring accents say, '' I did not steal 
the meat ; I did not steal the meat. My master 
lives up the river. I want to see my master. I 
did not steal the meat. Do let me go home to 
master." After punching him, and striking him 
over the head for some time, he at last sunk in the 
water, to rise no more alive. 

On the end of the pike-pole with which they 
were striking him was a hook which caught in his 
clothing, and they hauled him up on the bow of the 
boat. Some said he was dead, others said he 
was "jylaying possum,^^ while others kicked him 
to make him get up, but it was of no use — he was 
dead. 

As soon as they became satisfied of this, they 
commenced leaving, one after another. One of the 
hands on the boat informed the captain that they 
had killed the man, and that the dead body was 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 61 

lying on the deck. The captain came on deck, and 
said to those who were remaining, " You have 
killed this nigger; now take him oft^ of my boat." 
The captain's name was Hart. The dead body was 
dragged on shore and left there. I went on board 
of the boat wliere our gang of slaves were, and 
during the whole night my mind was occupied with 
what I had seen. Early in the morning, I went on 
shore to see if the dead body remained there. I 
found it in the same position that it was left the 
night before. I watched to see what they would 
do with it. It was left tliere until between eight 
and nine o'clock, when a cart, which takes up the 
trash out of the streets, came along, and the body 
was tlirown in, and in a few minutes more was 
covered over with dirt which they were removing 
from the streets. During the whole time, I did not 
see more than six or seven persons around it, who, 
from their manner, evidently regarded it as no 
uncommon occurrence. 

During our stay in the city, I met with a young 
white man with whom I was well acquainted in St. 
Louis. He had been sold into slavery, under the 
following circumstances. His father was a drunk- 



62 NARRATIVE OF THE 

ard, and very poor, with a family of five or six 
children. The father died, and left the mother to 
take care of and provide for the children as best 
she might. The eldest was a boy, named Burrill, 
about thirteen years of age, who did chores in a 
store kept by Mr. Riley, to assist his mother in pro- 
curing a living for the family. After working with 
him two years, Mr. Riley took him to New Orleans 
to wait on him while in that city on a visit, and 
when he returned to St. Louis, he told the mother 
of the boy that he had died witli the yellow fever. 
Nothing more was heard from him, no one suppos- 
ing him to be alive. I was much astonished when 
Burrill told me his story. Though I sympathized 
with him, I could not assist him. We were both 
slaves. He was poor, uneducated, and without 
friends ; and if living, is, I presume, still held as a 
slave. 

After selling out this cargo of human flesh, we 
returned to St. Louis, and my time was up with 
Mr. Walker. I had served him one year, and it 
was the longest year I ever lived. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 63 



CHAPTER VIII. 

I WAS sent home, and was glad enough to leave 
the service of one who was tearing the husband 
from the wife, the child from the mother, and the 
sister from the brother, — but a trial more severe 
and heart-rending than any which I had yet met 
with awaited me. My dear sister had been sold to 
a man who was going to Natchez, and was lying in 
jail awaiting the hour of his departure. She had 
expressed her determination to die, rather than go 
to the far south, and she was put in jail for safe 
keeping. I went to the jail the same day that I 
arrived, but as the jailor was not in, I could not see 
her. 

I went home to my master, in the country, and 
the first day after my return, he came where I was 
at work, and spoke to me very politely. I knew 
from his appearance that something was the matter. 
After talking about my several journeys to New 



64 ' NARRATIVE OP THE 

Orleans with Mr. Walker, he told me that he was 
hard yjressed for money, and as he had sold my 
mother and all her children except me, he thought 
it would be better to sell me than any other one, 
and that as I had been used to living in the city, he 
thought it probable that I would prefer it to a 
country life. I raised up my head, and looked him 
full in the face. When my eyes caught his, he 
immediately looked to the ground. After a short 
pause, I said, 

" Master, mother has often told me that you are 
a near relative of mine, and I have often heard you 
admit the fact; and after you have hired me out, 
and received, as I once heard you say, nine hundred 
dollars for my services, — after receiving this large 
sum, will you sell me to be carried to New Orleans 
or some other place ? " 

'' No," said he, " I do not intend to sell you to a 
negro trader. If I had wished to have done that, I 
might have sold you to Mr. Walker for a large sum, 
but I would not sell you to a negro trader. You 
may go to the city, and find you a good master." 

" But," said I, '^ I cannot find a good master in 
the whole city of St. Louis." 

"Why? "said he. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 65 

"Because there are no good masters in the 
State." 

" Do you not call me a good master ? " 

" If you were, you would not sell me." 

" Now I will give you one week to find a master 
in, and surely you can do it in that time." 

The price set by my evangelical master upon 
my soul and body was the trifling sum of five 
hundred dollars. I tried to enter into some 
arrangement by which I might purchase my free- 
dom ; but he would enter into no such arrangement. 

I set out for the city with the understanding 
that I was to return in a week with some one to 
become my new master. Soon after reaching the 
city, I went to the jail, to learn if I could once 
more see my sister ; but could not gain admission. 
I then went to mother, and learned from her that 
the owner of my sister intended to start for Natchez 
in a few days. 

I went to the jail again the next day, and Mr. 
Simonds, the keeper, allowed me to see my sister 
for the last time. I cannot give a just description of 
the scene at that parting interview. Never, never 
can be erased from my heart the occurrences of 
5 



66 NARRATIVE OF THE 

that day ! When I entered the room where she 
was, she was seated in one corner, alone. There 
were four other women in the same room, belonging 
to the same man. He had purchased them, he said, 
for his own use. She was seated with her face 
towards the door where I entered, yet she did not 
look up until I walked up to her. As soon as she 
observed me, she sprung up, threw her arms around 
my neck, leaned her head upon my breast, and, 
without uttering a word, burst into tears. As soon 
as she recovered herself sufficiently to speak, she 
advised me to take mother, and try to get out of 
slavery. She said there was no hope for herself, — 
that she must live and die a slave. After giving 
her some advice, and taking from my finger a ring 
and placing it upon hers, I bade her farewell for- 
ever, and returned to my mother, and then and 
there made up my mind to leave for Canada as 
soon as possible. 

I had been in the city nearly two days, and as I 
was to be absent only a week, I thought best to get 
on my journey as soon as possible. In conversing 
with mother, I found her unwilling to make the 
attempt to reach a land of liberty, but she counselled 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 67 

me to get my liberty if I could. She said, as all 
her children were in slavery, she did not wish to 
leave them. I could not bear the idea of leaving 
her among those pirates, when there was a prospect 
of being able to get away from them. After much 
persuasion, I succeeded in inducing her to make 
the attempt to get away. 

The time fixed for our departure was the next 
night. I had with me a little money that I had 
received, from time to time, from gentlemen for 
whom I had done errands. I took my scanty 
means and purchased some dried beef, crackers and 
cheese, which I carried to mother, who had provided 
herself with a bag to carry it in. I occasionally 
thought of my old master, and of my mission to the 
city to find a new one. I waited with the most 
intense anxiety for the appointed time to leave the 
land of slavery, in search of a land of liberty. 

The time at length arrived, and we left the city 
just as the clock struck nine. We proceeded to 
the upper part of the city, where I had been two or 
three times during the day, and selected a skiff to 
carry us across the river. The boat was not mine, 
nor did I know to whom it did belong; neither 



68 NARRATIVE OF THE 

did I care. The boat was fastened with a small 
pole, which, with the aid of a rail, I soon loosened 
from its moorings. After hunting round and find- 
ing a board to use as an oar, I turned to the city, 
and bidding it a long farewell, { ushed off my boat. 
The current running very swift, we had not reached 
the middle of the stream before we were directly 
opposite the city. 

We were soon upon the Illinois shore, and, leap- 
ing from the boat, turned it adrift, and the last 
I saw of it, it was going down the river at good 
speed. We took the main road to Alton, and passed 
through just at daylight, when we made for the 
woods, where we remained during the day. Our 
reason for going into the woods was, that we ex- 
pected that Mr. Mansfield (the man who owned 
my mother) would start in pursuit of her as soon as 
he discovered that she was missing. He also knew 
that I had been in the city looking for a new mas- 
ter, and we thought probably he would go out to 
my master's to see if he could find my mother, and 
in so doing, Dr. Young might be led to suspect that 
I had gone to Canada to find a purchaser. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 69 

We remained in the woods during the day, and 
as soon as darkness overshadowed the earth, we 
started again on our gloomy way, having no guide 
but the NORTH STAR, We continued to travel by 
night, and secrete ourselves in woods by day ; and 
every night, before emerging from our hiding-place, 
we would anxiously look for our friend and leader, 

the NORTH STAR. 



70 NARRATIVE OF THE 



CHAPTER IX. 

As we travelled towards a land of liberty, my 
heart would at times leap for joy. At other times, 
being, as I was, almost constantly on my feet, I felt 
as though I could travel no further. But when I 
thought of slavery with its Democratic whips — its 
Republican chains — its evangelical blood-hounds, 
and its religious slave-holders — when I thought of 
all this paraphernalia of American Democracy and 
Religion behind me, and the prospect of libert}' 
before me, I was encouraged to press forward, my 
heart was strengthened, and I forgot that I was 
tired or hungry. 

On the eighth day of our journey, we had a very 
heavy rain, and in a few hours after it commenced, 
we had not a dry thread upon our bodies. This 
made our journey still more unpleasant. On the 
tenth day, we found ourselves entirely destitute of 
provisions, and how to obtain any we could not 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 71 

tell. We finally resolved to stop at some farm- 
house, and try to get something to eat. We had 
no sooner determined to do this, than we went to a 
house, and asked them for some food. We were 
treated with great kindness, and they not only gave 
us something to eat, but gave us provisions to carry 
with us. They advised us to travel by day, and 
lye by at night. Finding ourselves about one hun- 
dred and fifty miles from St. Louis, we concluded 
that it would be safe to travel by daylight, and did 
not leave the house until the next morning. We 
travelled on that day through a thickly settled 
country, and through one small village. Though 
we were fleeing from a land of oppression, our 
hearts were still there. My dear sister and two 
beloved brothers were behind us, and the idea of 
giving them up, and leaving them forever, made us 
feel sad. But with all this depression of heart, the 
thought that I should one day be free, and call my 
body my own, buoyed me up, and made my heart 
leap for joy. I had just been telling mother how I 
should try to get employment as soon as we reached 
Canada, and how I intended to purchase us a little 
farm, and how I would earn money enough to buy 



72 NARRATIVE OF THE 

sister and brothers, and how happy we would be in 
our own Free Home, — when three men came up 
on horseback, and ordered us to stop. 

I turned to the one who appeared to be the 
principal man, and asked him what he wanted. 
He said he had a warrant to take us up. The 
three immediately dismounted, and one took from 
his pocket a handbill, advertising us as runaways, 
and offering a reward of two hundred dollars for 
our apprehension, and delivery in the city of St. 
Louis. The advertisement had been put out by 
Isaac Mansfield and John Young. 

While they were reading the advertisement, 
mother looked me in the face, and burst into tears. 
A cold chill ran over me, and such a sensation I 
never experienced before, and I hope never to 
again. They took out a rope and tied me, and we 
were taken back about six miles, to the house of 
the individual who appeared to be the leader. We 
reached there about seven o'clock in the evening, 
had supper, and were separated for the night. Two 
men remained in the room during the night. Be- 
fore the family retired to rest, they were all called 
together to attend prayers. The man who but a 



LIFE OF WILLIAM VV. BROWN. 73 

few hours before had bound my hands together 
with a strong cord, read a chapter from the Bible, 
and then offered up prayer, just as though God 
sanctioned the act he had just committed upon a 
poor panting, fugitive slave. 

The next morning, a blacksmith came in, and 
put a pair of handcuffs on me, and we started on 
our journey back to the land of whips, chains and 
Bibles. Mother was not tied, but was closely 
watched at night. We were carried back in a 
wagon, and after four days travel, we came in sight 
of St. Louis. I cannot describe my feelings upon 
approaching the city. 

As we were crossing the ferry, Mr. Wiggins, 
the owner of the ferry, came up to me, and in- 
quired what I had been doing that I was in chains. 
He had not heard that I had run away. In a few 
minutes, we were on the Missouri side, and were 
taken directly to the jail. On the way thither, I 
saw several of my friends, who gave me a nod of 
recognition as I passed them. After reaching the 
jail, we were locked up in different apartments. 



74 NARRATIVE OF THE 



CHAPTER X. 

I HAD been in jail but a short time when I heard 
that my master was sick, and nothing brought more 
joy to my heart than that intelligence. I prayed 
fervently for him — not for his recovery, but for 
his death. I knew he would be exasperated at 
having to pay for my apprehension, and knowing 
his cruelty, I feared him. While in jail, I learned 
that my sister Elizabeth, who was in prison when 
we left the city, had been carried off four days 
before our arrival. 

I had been in jail but a few hours when three 
negro-traders, learning that I was secured thus for 
running away, came to my prison-house and looked 
at me, expecting that I would be offered for sale. 
Mr. Mansfield, the man who owned mother, came 
into the jail as soon as Mr. Jones, the man who 
arrested us, informed him that he had brought her 
back. He told her that he would not whip her. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 75 

but would sell her to a negro-trader, or take her to 
New Orleans himself. After being in jail about 
one week, master sent a man to take me out of jail, 
and send me home. I was taken out and carried 
home, and the old man was well enough to sit up. 
He had me brought into the room where he was, 
and as I entered, he asked me where I had been ? 
I told I had acted according to his orders. He 
had told me to look for a master, and I had been 
to look for one. He answered that he did not tell 
me to go to Canada to look for a master. I told 
him that as I had served him faithfully, and had 
been the means of putting a number of hundreds of 
dollars into his pocket, I thought I had a right to 
my liberty. He said he had promised my father 
that I should not be sold to supply the New Or- 
leans market, or he would sell me to a negro- 
trader. 

I was ordered to go into the field to work, and 
was closely watched by the overseer during the day, 
and locked up at night. The overseer gave me a 
severe whipping on the second day that I was in 
the field. I had been at home but a short time, 
when master was able to ride to the citv ; and on 



16 NARRATIVE OF THE 

his return, he informed me that he had sold me to 
Samuel Willi, a merchant tailor. I knew Mr. 
Willi. I had lived with him three or four months 
some years before, when he hired me of my master. 

Mr. Willi was not considered by his servants 
as a very bad man, nor was he the best of masters. 
I went to my new home, and found my new mis- 
tress very glad to see me. Mr. Willi owned two 
servants before he purchased me, — Robert and 
Charlotte. Robert was an excellent white-washer, 
and hired his time from his master, paying him 
one dollar per day, besides taking care of himself. 
He was known in the city by the name of Bob 
Music. Charlotte was an old woman, who attended 
to the cooking, washing, &c. Mr. Willi was not 
a wealthy man, and did not feel able to keep many 
servants around his house ; so he soon decided to 
hire me out, and as I had been accustomed to 
service in steamboats, he gave mc the privilege of 
finding such employment. 

I soon secured a situation on board the steamer 
Otto, Capt. J. B. Hill, which sailed from St. Louis 
to Independence, Missouri. My former master, 
Dr. Young, did not let Mr. Willi know that I had 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. i i 

run away, or he would not have permitted me to 
go on board a steamboat. The boat was not quite 
ready to commence running, and therefore I had to 
remain with Mr. Willi. But during this time. I 
bad to undergo a trial, for which I was entirely 
unprepared. My mother, who had been in jail 
since her return until the present time, was now 
about being carried to New Orleans, to die on a 
cotton, sugar, or rice plantation ! 

I had been several times to the jail, but could 
obtain no interview with her. I ascertained, how- 
ever, the time the boat in which she was to embark 
would sail, and as I had not seen mother since her 
being thrown into prison, I felt anxious for the hour 
of sailing to come. At last, the day arrived when I 
was to see her for the first time after our painful 
separation, and, for aught that I knew, for the last 
time in this world ! 

At about ten oclock in the morning I went on 
board of the boat, and found her there in company 
with fifty or sixty other slaves. She was chained 
to another woman. On seeing me, she immediately 
dropped her head upon her heaving bosom. She 
moved not, neither did sbe weep. Her emotions 



78 NARRATIVE OF THE 

were too deep for tears. I approached, threw my 
arms around her neck, kissed her, and fell upon 
my knees, begging her forgiveness, for I thought 
myself to blame for her sad condition ; for if I had 
not persuaded her to accompany me, she would not 
then have been in chains. 

She finally raised her head, looked me in the 
face, (and such a look none but an angel can give !) 
and said, " My dear son, you are not to blame for 
my being here. You have done nothing more 
nor less than your duty. Do not, I pray you, 
weep for me. I cannot last long upon a cotton 
plantation. I feel that my heavenly master will 
soon call me home, and then I shall be out of the 
hands of the slave-holders I " 

I could bear no more — my heart struggled to 
free itself from the human form. In a moment she 
saw Mr. Mansfield coming toward that part of the 
boat, and she whispered into my ear, " My child, 
we must soon part to meet no more this side of the 
grave. You have ever said that you would not 
die a slave ; that you would be a freeman. Now 
try to get your liberty ! You will soon have no 
one to look after but yourself! " and just as she 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 79 

whispered the last sentence into my ear, Mansfield 
came up to me, and with an oath, said, '' Leave here 
this instant; you have been the means of my losing 
one hundred dollars to get this wench back," — 
at the same time kicking me with a heavy pair of 
boots. As I left her, she gave one shriek, saying, 
" God be with you ! " It was the last time that I 
saw her, and the last word 1 heard her utter. 

I walked on shore. The bell was tolhng. The 
boat was about to start. I stood with a heavy 
heart, waiting to see her leave the wharf. As I 
thought of my mother, I could but feel that I had 
lost * 

" the glory of my life, 

My blessing and my pride ! 
I half forgot the name of slave, 
When she was by my side." 



80 NARRATIVE OF THE 



CHAPTER XI 



The love of liberty that had been burning in my 
bosom, had well nigh gone out. I felt as though I 
was ready to die. The boat moved gently from 
the wharf, and while she glided down the river, I 
realized that my mother was indeed 

" Gone, — gone, — sold and gone, 
To the rice swamp dank and lone ! " 

After the boat was out of sight, I returned home; 
but my thoughts were so absorbed in what I had 
witnessed, that I knew not what I was about half 
of the time. Night came, but it brought no sleep 
to my eyes. 

In a few days, the boat upon which I was to 
work being ready, I went on board to commence. 
This employment suited me better than living in 
the city, and I remained until the close of naviga- 
tion ; though it proved anything but pleasant. The 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 81 

captain was a drunken, profligate, hard-hearted 
creature, not knowing how to treat himself, or any 
other person. 

The boat, on its second trip, brought down Mr. 
Walker, the man of whom I have spoken in a pre- 
vious chapter, as hiring my time. He had between 
one and two hundred slaves, chained and manacled. 
Among them was a man that formerly belonged to 
my old master's brother, Aaron Young. His name 
was Solomon. He was a preacher, and belonged to 
the same church with his master. I was glad to 
see the old man. He wept like a child when he 
told me how he had been sold from his wife and 
children. 

The boat carried down, while I remained on 
board, four or five gangs of slaves. Missouri, 
though a comparatively new State, is very much 
engaged in raising slaves to supply the southern 
market. In a former chapter, I have mentioned 
that I was once in the employ of a slave-trader, or 
driver, as he is called at the south. For fear 
that some may think that I have misrepresented a 
slave-driver, I will here give an extract from a 
6 



82 NARRATIVE OF THE 

paper published in a slaveholding State, Tennes- 
see, called the '' Millennial Trumpeter." 

" Droves of negroes, chained together in dozens 
and scores, and hand-cuffed, have b^en driven 
through our country in numbers far surpassing any 
previous year, and these vile slave-drivers and deal- 
ers are swarming like buzzards around a carrion. 
Through this county, you cannot pass a few miles 
in the great roads without having every feeling of 
humanity insulted and lacerated by this spectacle, 
nor can you go into any county or any neighbor- 
hood, scarcely, without seeing or hearing of some 
of these despicable creatures, called negro-drivers. 

"Who is a negro-driver? One whose eyes 
dwell with delight on lacerated bodies of helpless 
men, women and children ; whose soul feels dia- 
bolical raptures at the chains, and hand-cuffs, and 
cart-whips, for inflicting tortures on weeping moth- 
ers torn from helpless babes, and on husbands and 
wives torn asunder forever ! " 

Dark and revolting as is the picture here drawn, 
it is from the pen of one living in the midst of 
slavery. But though these men may cant about 
negro-drivers, and tell what despicable creatures 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 83 

they are, who is it, I ask, that supplies them with 
the human beings that they are tearing asunder ? 
I answer, as far as I have any knowledge of the 
State where I came from, that those who raise 
slaves for the market are to be found among all 
classes, from Thomas H. Benton down to the 
lowest political demagogue, who may be able to 
purchase a woman for the purpose of raising stock, 
and from the Doctor of Divinity down to the most 
humble lay member in the church. 

It was not uncommon in St. Louis to pass by an 
auction-stand, and behold a woman upon the auction- 
block, and hear the seller crying out, " How much 
is offered for this woman ? She is a good cook, 
good ivasher, a good obedient servant. She has 
got religion ! " Why should this man tell the 
purchasers that she has religion? I answer, be- 
cause in Missouri, and as far as I have any knowl- 
edge of slavery in the other States, the religious 
teaching consists in teaching the slave that he must 
never strike a white man ; that God made him for 
a slave ; and that, when whipped, he must not find 
fault, — for the Bible says, "He that knoweth his 
master's will, and doeth it not, shall be beaten with 



84 NARRATIVE OF THE 

many stripes ! " And slaveholders find such religion 
very profitable to them. 

After leaving the steamer Otto, I resided at 
home, in Mr. Willi's family, and again began to 
lay my plans for making my escape from slavery. 
The anxiety to be a freeman would not let me rest 
day or night. I would think of the northern cities 
thai I had heard so much about; — of Canada, 
where so many of my acquaintances had found 
refuge. I would dream at night that I was in 
Canada, a freeman, and on waking in the morning, 
weep to find myself so sadly mistaken. 

"I would think of Victoria's domain, 
And in a moment I seemed to be there I 

But the fear of being taken again, 
Soon hurried me back to despair." 

Mr. Willi treated me better than Dr. Young 
ever had ; but instead of making me contented and 
happy, it only rendered me the more miserable, for 
it enabled me better to appreciate liberty. Mr. 
Willi was a man who loved money as most men 
do, and without looking for an opportunity to sell 
me, he found one in the offer of Captain Enoch 
Price, a steamboat owner and commission mer- 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 85 

chant, living in the city of St. Louis. Captain 
Price tendered seven hundred dollars, which was 
two hundred more than Mr. Willi had paid. He 
therefore thought best to accept the offer. I was 
wanted for a carriage driver, and Mrs. Price was 
very much pleased with the captain's bargain. His 
family consisted besides of one child. He had 
three servants besides myself — one man and two 
women. 

Mrs. Price was very proud of her servants, 
always keeping them well dressed, and as soon as I 
had been purchased, she resolved to have a new 
carriage. And soon one was procured, and all 
preparations were made for a turn-out in grand 
style, I being the driver. 

One of the female servants was a girl some 
eighteen or twenty years of age, named Maria. 
Mrs. Price was very soon determined to have us 
united, if she could so arrange matters. She 
would often urge upon me the necessity of having 
a wife, saying that it would be so pleasant for me 
to take one in the same family ! But getting mar- 
ried, while in slavery, was the last of my thoughts; 
and had I been ever so inclined, I should not have 



86 NARRATIVE OF THE 

married Maria, as my love had already gone in 
another quarter. Mrs. Price soon found out that 
her efforts at this match-making between Maria 
and myself would not prove successful. She also 
discovered (or thought she had) that I was rather 
partial to a girl named Eliza, who was owned by 
Dr. Mills. This induced her at once to endeavor 
the purchase of Eliza, so great was her desire to 
get me a wife ! 

Before making the attempt, however, she deemed 
it best to talk to me a little upon the subject of 
love, courtship, and marriage. Accordingly one 
afternoon she called me into her room — telling me 
to take a chair and sit down. I did so, thinking it 
rather strange, for servants are not very often asked 
thus to sit down in the same room with the master 
or mistress. She said that she had found out that 
I did not care enough about Maria to marry her. I 
told her that was true. She then asked me if 
there was not a girl in the city that I loved. Well, 
now, this was coming into too close quarters with 
me ! People, generally, don't like to tell their love 
stories to everybody that may think fit to ask about 
them, and it was so with me. But, after blushing 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 87 

awhile and recovering myself, I told her that I did 
not want a wife. She then asked me, if I did not 
think something of Eliza. I told her that I did. 
She then said that if I wished to marry Eliza, she 
would purchase her if she could. 

I gave but little encouragement to this proposi- 
tion, as I was determined to make another trial to 
get my liberty, and I knew that if I should have a 
wife, I should not be willing to leave her behind ; 
and if I should attempt to bring her with me, the 
chances would be difficult for success. However, 
Eliza was purchased, and brought into the family. 



88 NARRATIVE OF THE 



CHAPTER XII. 

But the more I thought of the trap laid by Mrs. 
Price to make me satisfied with my new home, by 
getting me a wife, the more I determined never to 
marry any woman on earth until I should get my 
liberty. But this secret I was compelled to keep to 
myself, which placed me in a very critical position. 
I must keep upon good terms with Mrs. Price and 
Eliza. I therefore promised Mrs. Price that I 
would marry EHza ; but said that I was not then 
ready. And I had to keep upon good terms with 
Eliza, for fear that Mrs. Price would find out that I 
did not intend to get married. 

I have here spoken of marriage, and it is very 
common among slaves themselves to talk of it. And 
it is common for slaves to be married ; or at least 
have the marriage ceremony performed. But there 
is no such thing as slaves being lawfully married. 
There has never yet a case occurred where a slave 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 89 

has been tried for bigamy. The man may have as 
many women as he wishes, and the women as 
many men ; and the law takes no cognizance of 
such acts among slaves. And in fact some mas- 
ters, when they have sold the husband from the 
wife, compel her to take another. 

There lived opposite Captain Price's, Doctor 
Farrar, well known in St. Louis. He sold a man 
named Ben, to one of the traders. He also owned 
Ben's wife, and in a few days he compelled Sally 
(that was her name) to marry Peter, another man 
belonging to him. I asked Sally " why she married 
Peter so soon after Ben was sold." She said, 
"because master made her do it." 

Mr. John Calvert, who resided near our place, 
had a woman named Lavinia. She was quite 
young, and a man to whom she was about to be 
married was sold, and carried into the country near 
St. Charles, about twenty miles from St. Louis. 
Mr. Calvert wanted her to get a husband ; but she 
had resolved not to marry any other man, and she 
refused. Mr. Calvert whipped her in such a man- 
ner that it was thought she would die. Some of 
the citizens had him arrested, but it was soon 



90 NARRATIVE OF THE 

hushed up. And that was the last of it. The 
woman did not die, but it would have been the 
same if she had. 

Captain Price purchased me in the month of 
October, and I remained with him until December, 
when the family made a voyage to New Orleans, in 
a boat owned by himself, and named the " Chestei*." 
I served on board, as one of the stewards. On 
arriving at New Orleans, about the middle of the 
month, the boat took in freight for Cincinnati ; 
and it was decided that the family should go up the 
river in her, and what was of more interest to me, 
I was to accompany them. 

The long looked for opportunity to make my 
escape from slavery was near at hand. 

Captain Price had some fears as to the propriety 
of taking me near a free State, or a place where it 
was Ukely I could run away, with a prospect of 
liberty. He asked me if I had ever been in a free 
State. '-Oh yes," said I, "I have been in Ohio; 
my master carried me into that State once, but I 
never liked a free State." 

It was soon decided that it would be safe to 
take me with them, and what made it more safe, 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 91 

Eliza was on the boat with us, and Mrs. Price, 
to try me, asked if I thought as much as ever of 
Ehza. I told her that Eliza was very dear to me 
indeed, and that nothing but death should part us. 
It was the same as if we were married. This had 
the desired effect. The boat left New Orleans, and 
proceeded up the river. 

I had at different times obtained little sums of 
money, which I had reserved for a " rainy day." I 
procured some cotton cloth, and made me a bag to 
carry provisions in. The trials of the past were all 
lost in hopes for the future. The love of liberty, 
that had been burning in my bosom for years, and 
had been well nigh extinguished, was now resusci- 
tated. At night, when all around was peaceful, I 
would walk the decks, meditating upon my happy 
prospects. 

I should have stated, that before leaving St. Louis, 
I went to an old man named Frank, a slave, owned 
by a Mr. Sarpee. This old man was very distin- 
guished (not only among the slave population, but 
also the whites) as a fortune-teller. He was about 
seventy years of age, something over six feet high, 
and very slender. Indeed, he was so small around 



92 NARRATIVE OF THE 

his body that it looked as though it was not strong 
enough to hold up his head. 

Uncle Frank was a very great favorite with the 
young ladies, who would go to him in great num- 
bers to get their fortunes told. And it was gene- 
rally believed that he could really penetrate into 
the mysteries of futurity. Whether true or not, he 
had the name, and that is about half of what one 
needs in this gullible age. I found Uncle Frank 
seated in the chimney corner, about ten o'clock at 
night. As soon as I entered, the old man left his 
seat. I watched his movement as well as I could 
by the dim light of the fire. He soon lit a lamp, 
and coming up, looked me full in the face, saying, 
" Well, my son, you have come to get uncle to tell 
your fortune, have you ? " '' Yes," said I. But 
how the old man should know what I had come for, 
I could not tell. However, I paid the fee of 
twenty-five cents, and he commenced by looking 
into a gourd, filled with water. Whether the old 
man was a prophet,' or the son of a prophet, I 
cannot say ; but there is one thing certain, many of 
his predictions were verified. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 93 

I am no believer in soothsaying; yet I am some- 
times at a loss to know how Uncle Frank could tell 
so accurately what would occur in the future. 
Among the many things he told was one which was 
enough to pay me for all the trouble of hunting him 
up. It was that I should bejree! He further 
said, that in trying to get my liberty, I would meet 
with many severe trials. I thought to myself, any 
fool could tell me that ! 

The first place in which we landed in a free 
State was Cairo, a small village at the mouth of the 
Ohio river. We remained here but a few hours, 
when we proceeded to Louisville. After unloading 
some of the cargo, the boat started on her upward 
trip. The next day was the first of January. I 
had looked forward to New Year's day as the com- 
mencement of a new era in the history of my life. 
I had decided upon leaving the peculiar institution 
that day. 

During the last night that I served in slavery, I 
did not close my eyes a single moment. When 
not thinking of the future, my mind dwelt on the 
past. The love of a dear mother, a dear sister, and 
three dear brothers, yet living, caused me to shed 



94 NARRATIVE OF THE 

many tears. If I could only have been assured of 
their being dead, I should have felt satisfied ; but 
I imagined I saw my dear mother in the cotton- 
field, followed by a merciless task-master, and no 
one to speak a consoling word to her ! I beheld 
my dear sister in the hands of a slave-driver, and 
compelled to submit to his cruelty ! None but one 
placed in such a situation can for a moment imagine 
the intense agony to which these reflections subject- 
ed me. 



,IFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 95 



CHAPTER XIII. 

At last the time for action arrived. The boat 
landed at a point which appeared to me the place 
of all others to start from. I found that it would 
be impossible to carry anything with me, but what 
was upon my person. I had some provisions, and 
a single suit of clothes, about half worn. When 
the boat was discharging her cargo, and the passen- 
gers engaged carrying their baggage on and off 
shore, I improved the opportunity to convey myself 
with my little effects on land. Taking up a trunk, 
I went up the wharf, and was soon out of the 
crowd. I made directly for the woods, where I 
remained until night, knowing well that I could not 
travel, even in the State of Ohio, during the day, 
without danger of being arrested. 

I had long since made up my mind that I would 
not trust myself in the hands of any man, white or 
colored. The slave is brought up to look upon 



96 NARRATIVE OF THE 

every white man as an enemy to him and his race ; 
and twenty-one years in slavery had taught me that 
there were traitors, even among colored people. 
After dark, I emerged from the woods into a nar- 
row path, which led me into the main travelled 
road. But I knew not which way to go. I did 
not know North from South, East from West. I 
looked in vain for the North Star ; a heavy cloud 
hid it from my view. I walked up and down the 
road until near midnight, when the clouds disap- 
peared, and I welcomed the sight of my friend, 
— truly the slave's friend, — the North Star ! 

As soon as I saw it, I knew my course, and 
before daylight I travelled twenty or twenty-five 
miles. It being in the winter, I suffered intensely 
from the cold ; being without an overcoat, and my 
other clothes rather thin for the season. I was 
provided with a linder-box, so that I could make 
up a fire when necessary. And but for this, I should 
certainly have frozen to death ; for I was deter- 
mined not to go to any house for shelter. I knew 
of a man belonging to Gen. Ashly, of St. Louis, 
who had run away near Cincinnati, on the way to 
Washington, but had been caught and carried 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 97 

back into slavery ; and I felt that a similar fate 
awaited me, should I be seen by any one. I trav- 
elled at night, and lay by during the day. 

On the fourth day, my provisions gave out, and 
then what to do I could not tell. Have something 
to eat, I must ; but how to get it was the question ! 
On the first night after my food was gone, I went 
to a barn on the road-side, and there found some 
ears of corn. I took ten or twelve of them, and 
kept on my journey. During the next day, while 
in the woods, I roasted my corn and feasted upon it, 
thanking God that I was so well provided for. 

My escape to a land of freedom now appeared 
certain, and the prospects of the future occupied a 
great part of my thoughts. What should be my 
occupation, was a subject of much anxiety to me ; 
and the next thing what should be my name ? I 
have before stated that my old master. Dr. Young, 
had no children of his own, but had with him a 
nephew, the son. of his brother, Benjamin Young. 
When this boy was brought to Doctor Young, his 
name being William, the same as mine, my mother 
was ordered to change mine to something else. 
This, at the time, I thought to be one of the most 
7 



98 NARRATIVE OF THE 

cruel acts that could be committed upon my rights ; 
and I received several very severe whippings for 
telling people that my name was William, after 
orders were given to change it. Though young, I 
was old enough to place a high appreciation upon 
my name. It was decided, however, to call me 
" Sandford," and this name I was known by, not 
only upon my master's plantation, but up to the 
time that I made my escape. I was sold under the 
name of Sandford. 

But as soon as the subject came to my mind, I 
resolved on adopting my old name of William, and 
let Sandford go by the board, for I always hated it. 
Not because there was anything peculiar in the 
name ; but because it had been forced upon me. 
It is sometimes common at the south, for slaves to 
take the name of their masters. Some have a 
legitimate right to do so. But I always detested 
the idea of being called by the name of either of 
my masters. And as for my father, I would rather 
have adopted the name of " Friday," and been 
known as the servant of some Robinson Crusoe, 
than to have taken his name. So I was not only 
hunting for my liberty, but also hunting for a name ; 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 99 

though I regarded the latter as of little conse- 
quence, if I could but gain the former. Travelling 
along the road, I would sometimes speak to myself, 
sounding my name over, by way of getting used to 
it, before I should arrive among civilized human 
beings. On the fifth or sixth day, it rained very 
fast, and it froze about as fast as it fell, so that my 
clothes were one glare of ice. I travelled on at 
night until I became so chilled and benumbed — 
the wind blowing into my face — that I found it 
impossible to go any further, and accordingly took 
shelter in a barn, where I was obhged to walkabout 
to keep from freezing. 

I have ever looked upon that night as the most 
eventful part of my escape from slavery. Nothing 
but the providence of God, and that old barn, saved 
me from freezing to death. I received a very 
severe cold, which settled upon my lungs, and from 
time to time my feet had been frost-bitten, so that 
it was with difficulty I could walk. In this situa- 
tion I travelled two days, when I found that I must 
seek shelter somewhere, or die. 

The thought of death was nothing frightful to 
me, compared with that of being caught, and again 



100 NARRATIVE OF THE 

carried back into slavery. Nothing but the pros- 
pect of enjoying liberty could have induced me to 
undergo such trials, for 

" Behind I left the whips and chains, 
Before me were sweet Freedom's plains ! " 

This, and this alone, cheered me onward. But I 
at last resolved to seek protection from the inclem- 
ency of the weather, and therefore I secured myself 
behind some logs and brush, intending to wait there 
until some one should pass by; for I thought it 
probable that I might see some colored person, or, 
if not, some one who was not a slaveholder ; for I 
had an idea that I should know a slaveholder as 
far as I could see him. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 101 



CHAPTER XIV. 

The first person that passed was a man in a 
buggy- wagon. He looked too genteel for me to 
hail him. Very soon, another passed by on horse- 
back. I attempted speaking to him, but fear made 
my voice fail me. As he passed, I left my hiding- 
place, and was approaching the road, when I 
observed an old man walking towards me, leading a 
white horse. He had on a broad-brimmed hat and 
a very long coat, and was evidently walking for 
exercise. As soon as 1 saw him, and observed his 
dress, I thought to myself, " You are the man that I 
have been looking for ! " Nor was I mistaken. 
He was the very man ! 

On approaching me, he asked me, '^ if I was not a 
slave." I looked at him some time, and then asked 
him " if he knew of any one who would help me, as 
I was sick." He answered that he would ; but 
again asked, if I was not a slave. I told him I 



102 NARRATIVE OF THE 

was. He then said that I was in a very pro-slavery 
neighborhood, and if I would wait until he went 
home, he would get a covered wagon for me. I 
promised to remain. He mounted his horse, and 
was soon out of sight. 

After he was gone, I meditated whether to wait 
or not; being apprehensive that he had gone for 
some one to arrest me. But I finally concluded to 
remain until he should return ; removing some few 
rods to watch his movements. After a suspense of 
an hour and a half or more, he returned with a two 
horse covered- wagon, such as are usually seen under 
the shed of a Quaker meeting-house on Sundays 
and Thursdays ; for the old man proved to be a 
Quaker of the George Fox stamp. 

He took me to his house, but it was some time 
before I could be induced to enter it ; not until the 
old lady came out, did I venture into the house. I 
thought I saw something in the old lady's cap that 
told me I was not only safe, but welcome, in her 
house. I was not, however, prepared to receive 
their hospitalities. The only fault I found with 
them was their being too kind. I had never had a 
white man to treat me as an equal, and the idea of 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 103 

a white lady waiting on me at the table was still 
worse ! Though the table was loaded with the 
good things of this life, I could not eat. I thought 
if I could only be allowed the privilege of eating in 
the kitchen, I should be more than satisfied ! 

Finding that I could not eat, the old lady, who 
was a " Thompsonian," made me a cup of '' com- 
position," or '' number six ; " but it was so strong 
and hot, that I called it " number seven ! " How- 
ever, I soon found myself at home in this family. 
On different occasions, when telling these facts, I 
have been asked how I felt upon finding myself 
regarded as a man by a white family ; especially 
just having run away from one. I cannot say that 
I have ever answered the question yet. 

The fact that I was in all probability a freeman, 
sounded in my ears like a charm. I am satisfied 
that none but a slave could place such an apprecia- 
tion upon liberty as I did at that time. I wanted 
to see mother and sister, that I might tell them '' I 
was free ! " I wanted to see my fellow slaves in 
St. Louis, and let them know that the cliains were 
no longer upon my limbs. I wanted to see Captain 
Price, and let him learn from my own lips that I 



104 NARRATIVE OF THE 

was no more a chattel, but a man ! I was anxious, 
too, thus to inform Mrs. Price that she must get 
another coachman. And I wanted to see Eliza 
more than I did either Mr. or Mrs. Price ! 

The fact that I was a freeman — could walk, 
talk, eat and sleep as a man, and no one to stand 
over me with the blood-clotted cowhide — all this 
made me feel that I was not myself. 

The kind friend that had taken me in was named 
Wells Brown. He was a devoted friend of the 
slave ; but was very old, and not in the enjoyment 
of good health. After being by the fire awhile, I 
found that my feet had been very much frozen. I 
was seized with a fever which threatened to confine 
me to my bed. But my Thompsonian friends soon 
raised me, treating me as kindly as if I had been 
one of their own children. I remained with them 
twelve or fifteen days, during which time they 
made me some clothing, and the old gentleman 
purchased me a pair of boots. 

I found that I was about fifty or sixty miles from 
Dayton, in the State of Ohio, and between one and 
two hundred miles from Cleaveland, on lake Erie, 
a place I was desirous of reaching on my way to 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 105 

Canada. This I know will sound strangely to the 
ears of people in foreign lands, but it is neverthe- 
less true. An American citizen was fleeing from a 
Democratic, Republican, Christian government, to 
receive protection under the monarchy of Great 
Britain. While the people of the United States 
boast of their freedom, they at the same time keep 
three millions of their own citizens in chains ; and 
while I am seated here in sight of Bunker Hill 
Monument, writing this narrative, I am a slave, and 
no law, not even in Massachusetts, can protect me 
from the hands of the slaveholder ! 

Before leaving this good Quaker friend, he in- 
quired what my name was besides William. I told 
him that I had no other name. " Well," said he, 
^' thee must have another name. Since thee has 
got out of slavery, thee has become a man, and 
men always have two names." 

I told him that he was the first man to extend the 
hand of friendship to me, and I would give him the 
privilege of naming me. 

^' If I name thee," said he, " I shall call thee 
Wells Brown, after myself." 

" But," said I, '' I am not wilhng to lose my 



106 NARRATIVE OF THE 

name of William. As it was taken from me once 
against my will, I am not willing to part with it 
again upon any terms." 

" Then," said he, " I will call thee William Wells 
Brown." 

" So be it," said I ; and I have been known by 
that name ever since I left the house of my first 
white friend. Wells Brown. 

After giving me some little change, I again 
started for Canada. In four days I reached a public 
house, and went in to warm myself. I there 
learned that some fugitive slaves had just passed 
through the place. The men in the bar-room were 
talking about it, and I thought that it must have 
been myself they referred to, and I was therefore 
afraid to start, fearing they would seize me ; but I 
finally mustered courage enough, and took my 
leave. As soon as I was out of sight, I went into 
the woods, and remained there until night, when I 
again regained the road, and travelled on until the 
next day. 

Not having had any food for nearly two days, I 
was faint with hunger, and was in a dilemma what 
to do, as the little cash supplied me by my adopted 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 107 

father, and which had contributed to my comfort, 
was now all gone. I however concluded to go to 
a farm-house, and ask for something to eat. On 
approaching the door of the first one presenting 
itself, I knocked, and was soon met by a man who 
asked me what I wanted. I told him that I would 
like something to eat. He asked where I was 
from, and where I was going. I replied that I had 
come some way, and was going to Cleaveland. 

After hesitating a moment or two, he told me that 
he could give me nothing to eat, adding, " that if I 
would work, I could get something to eat." 

I felt bad, being thus refused something to sustain 
nature, but did not dare tell him that I was a slave. 

Just as I was leaving the door, with a heavy 
heart, a woman, who proved to be the wife of this 
gentleman, came to the door, and asked her husband 
what I wanted? He did not seem inclined to 
inform her. She therefore asked me herself. I 
told her that I had asked for something to eat. 
After a few other questions, she told me to come 
in, and that she would give me something to eat. 

I walked up to the door, but the husband re- 
mained in the passage, as if unwilling to let me 
enter. 



108 NARRATIVE OF THE 

She asked him two or three times to get out of 
the way, and let me in. But as he did not move, 
she pushed him on one side, bidding me walk in 1 
I was never before so glad to see a woman push a 
man aside! Ever since that act, I have been in 
favor of " woman's rights ! " 

After giving me as much food as I could eat, she 
presented me with ten cents, all the money then at 
her disposal, accompanied with a note to a friend, 
a few miles further on the road. Thanking this 
angel of mercy from an overflowing heart, I pushed 
on my way, and in three days arrived at Cleave- 
land, Ohio. 

Being an entire stranger in this place, it was 
diflicult for me to find where to stop. I had no 
money, and the lake being frozen, I saw that I 
must remain until the opening of navigation, or go 
to Canada by way of Buffalo. But believing my- 
self to be somewhat out of danger, I secured an 
engagement at the Mansion House, as a table 
waiter, in payment for my board. The proprietor, 
however, whose name was E. M. Segur, in a short 
time, hired me for twelve dollars per month ; on 
which terms I remained until spring, when I found 
good employment on board a lake steamboat. 



LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 109 

I purchased some books, and at leisure moments 
perused them with considerable advantage to my- 
self. While at Cleaveland, I saw, for the first time, 
an anti-slavery newspaper. It was the " Genius of 
Universal Emancipation,^^ published by Benjamin 
Lundy, and though I had no home, I subscribed 
for the paper. It was my great desire, being out 
of slavery myself, to do what I could for the eman- 
cipation of my brethren yet in chains, and while on 
Lake Erie, I found many opportunities of " helping 
their cause along." 

It is well known, that a great number of fugitives 
make their escape to Canada, by way of Cleave- 
land; and wiiile on the lake, I always made 
arrangement to carry them on the boat to Buffalo 
or Detroit, and thus effect their escape to the 
*' promised land." The friends of the slave, know- 
ing that I would transport them without charge, 
never failed to have a delegation when the boat 
arrived at Cleaveland. I have sometimes had 
four or five on board, at one time. 

In the year 1842, I conveyed, from the first of 
May to the first of December, sixty-nine fugitives 
over Lake Erie to Canada. In 1843, I visited 



110 NARRATIVE OF WILLIAM W, BROWN. 

Maiden, in Upper Canada, and counted seventeen, 
in that small village, who owed their escape to my 
humble efforts. 

Soon after coming North, I subscribed for the 
Liberator, edited by that champion of freedom, 
William Lloyd Garrison. I labored a season to 
promote the temperance cause among the colored 
people, but for the last three years, have been 
pleading for the victims of American slavery. 

William Wells Brown. 
Boston, Mass., June, 1847. 






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